Pink
by Eve-the-Charlotte
Summary: Piotr/JP, slash. Mentions Pink, pancakes, and Montreal, Quebec.


_Pink _by _Eve-the-Charlotte_

Pairings: Piotr/Jean Paul, Hank/Bobby, Tabitha/Amara, and Victor/Logan

This is a side story from my Witchblood stories. It takes place in the same universe, but it's not connected to the little series. Also, Jean Paul Beaubier, aka Northstar, is an openly gay mutant that was an X-Man for sometime in the Uncanny X-Men comics.

Prompts: The singer, and the color, Pink.

Enjoy!

Piotr Rasputin woke to the smell of fresh pancakes and syrup and the sound of some American woman singing in the background. He then heard a loud _thwump-bum-bump _of someone falling down the Institute's stairs. It was probably Robert Drake, but Piotr didn't feel like getting up to check just yet. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was staying at the Xavier Institute. Even after a few weeks, it still felt like a dream. A dream that seemed like it could end at any moment, especially the romantic part of it.

Jean Paul Beaubier was a very handsome, though somewhat snarky, man that Piotr had begun to court recently, and he was part of the reason Piotr had chosen to come to the Institute to become on of Xavier's "X-Men." Jean Paul had deserved to live in a nice, safe place that Piotr alone could not give him. So, one day, about a month ago, he had called up Professor Charles F. Xavier to tell him that he would accept his offer to become an X-Man, as long as Jean Paul could come as well and not have to be an X-Man, too. The Professor gladly accepted those terms and arranged for transportation from Montreal, Quebec, to Bayville, New York. The hours long drive to the Institute with Logan seemed like a small price to pay for the implications of the actions that led him to the House that Xavier Built. He and Jean Paul would be safer than they would be in Montreal, and they didn't have to pay rent, either. It was perfect, almost too perfect.

Why was he being so cynical, it was, as Jean Paul put it, it was his job to be snarky and cynical, not Piotr's. Yet, he couldn't help it. So, instead of mulling over such thoughts all day, he decided to find out whether those pancakes were plain or chocolate chip. So, he pulled on a clean-ish pair of boxers and lumbered down the steps, taking note of the part of the stair's banister being torn off.

Piotr stared at the clock outside the kitchen, which, surprisingly, read one in the afternoon. It was very unusual for him to sleep late; having grown up on a farm, but his thinking might have taken longer than he had thought it would. He walked into the kitchen, seeing that it had only a few of the regular denizens in it. Tabitha and Amara were currently feeding each other pancakes, staring into each other's eyes almost sickeningly cutely. Hank McCoy held an ice bag to Bobby Drake's head as the boy nursed his milk and drowned his pancakes in syrup. Creed was mumbling something to Logan, whom he had an arm wrapped around. Then, like an angel, Jean Paul appeared.

He was currently putting away the dishes the Institute's residents had used previously and singing softly to the song the CD in the boom-box was playing. The man looked so domestic, so peaceful, it made Piotr heart skip a few beats at the sight. He then caught a few lyrics the man was singing.

"Baby please don't leave me  
No, don't leave me  
Please don't leave me  
I always say how I don't need you  
but it's always gonna come right back to this.  
Please don't leave me," the French Canadian sang to himself, seemingly caught up in his own little world. The light sadness in the man's eyes made Piotr wrap his large arms around the svelte man. The French Canadian's eyes widened for a few seconds as he attempted to turn around to see who had him in their grip, but he relaxed once he realized who it is.

"_Bonjour, mon amour, _and how are _vouz _this fine afternoon," the thin man said, greeting the large Russian with a shy, yet happy, smile. Piotr's heart melted at the sight. Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by Creed shouting, "Get a room, your hormones are giving me a headache!"

"Well, _mon amour_," the svelte man whispered to Piotr, grinning mischievously, "I guess we'll 'ave to use ze _chat's _room, now won't we?"

"Da, I believe ve do, don't ve, luffling," the Russian replied, still smiling even as the two other Canadians in the room protested to the idea loudly. Piotr simply winked at the two men and sauntered out the kitchen holding Jean Paul's hand.

Once the two men were safely in their _own _bed, the Russian wrapped his arms around the French Canadian and whispered, "Don't vorry, luffling, I von't leave you. Ever."

This might be the fluffiest thing I have ever written so far. Can you feel the love tonight? ;) Anyways, read and review!


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